


mornings and more

by sweetlyinfinite



Series: Weekdays [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Sex, Smut, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlyinfinite/pseuds/sweetlyinfinite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis and Harry have sex and Louis wants more than he can have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mornings and more

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> sorry if this isn't what you wanted, but it's here at least? :) (also, my first published smut so sorry, again, if it makes you cringe and there's fluff at the end so you shouldn't be too scarred)

When Louis wakes up, it’s Tuesday. He doesn’t mind Tuesdays. It’s not as bright as it was the day before, instead rain pelting softly on the window panes and the sun peeking through clouds of heavy grey that look like swabs of cotton candy. It reminds Louis of a dreary morning in New York before a lot of things went to shit, or it could remind him of the night after most of the things went to shit and he had a hangover and tearstains on his cheeks. He doesn’t really care which one because now it’ll remind him of soft mornings with Harry. 

That in itself reminds Louis of Harry. 

Harry who’s snoring quietly and Louis who’s awake and wants him.

Louis climbs on top of Harry’s naked body, the sheets crinkling in the soft morning hush. He kisses Harry’s neck first, because the pale expanse of skin looks so bare and beautiful and Louis pauses to breathe Harry’s scent. He smells wonderful, like sleep and honey and sunscreen and a little like preschool. 

Louis smiles faintly before shuffling down a little on Harry’s chest so that his arse is pressed flush against his dick. He grins to himself and bends down, his tongue flicking out and wetting Harry’s nipple. It’s immediately hard and Louis wraps his lips around the rosy bud, grazing his teeth lightly over it. 

Harry’s eyelids flutter and he blinks them open so his eyes are hazy but seeing Louis’ shape. His mouth stretches into a soft smile and Louis pulls off to move onto the other nipple. Harry’s mouth falls open, though he isn't making any sounds yet and Louis finds that hotter than if he were to be. 

Louis kisses his way down Harry’s chest and only stops at his hips to suck a bruise into the warm skin there and Harry’s mouth never closed. Louis grins at the helpless sound Harry doesn’t mean to make, and then Harry’s tugging Louis up by the stands of his hair to his mouth and Louis tastes like Harry and mornings but Harry doesn’t mind; he kisses it away, licks the flavour of him from Louis’ lips and tongue. 

Within minutes they’re sweaty from rutting against each other and Louis doesn’t taste like anything but Louis. Harry’s legs are open and Louis’ fingers are coated in lube from the nightstand. It’s cool against Harry's skin and Harry’s impatient as Louis slips a finger in, the other hand slowly pumping Harry’s dick like its not important. 

Harry whines quietly and his smile is wide and causes his eyes to sparkle and his cheeks to flush so he looks drunk. (Harry thinks he sort of is because Louis most certainly has a knack for making Harry dizzy and intoxicated with everything.) 

“You’re gorgeous like this, Haz,” Louis mumbles, a second finger squeezing in. Harry makes another sound, a bit desperate and dark and reminds Louis of the first time he heard If I Had A Boat on one of Harry’s playlists and fell in love. 

Louis moves his fingers in and out, slippery and wet, and loves the sounds they create in the stillness of the room and the sounds they’ve managed to draw from Harry. 

The rain is still pouring but it’s humid and makes them sweatier and Harry more relaxed and Louis’ able to add a third finger with not much resistance. Louis wiggles his fingers and Harry giggles and Louis laughs and they haven’t actually laughed during sex before, but Louis finds his fingers buzzing and Harry’s giggles cease in favour of saying, “Holy shit, Lou, do that again.” 

Louis wiggles his fingers and Harry shakes his head. “No, make them— _oh_.” He stops because Louis laughs and his fingers vibrate again with his body and Harry melts. They continue that for a minute until Harry can’t take it anymore and pants, “ _Shit_ , Lou, I need.” 

Louis understands and coats his cock with a liberal amount of lube. He removes his fingers and then as he stares at Harry with his red cheeks and bitten-red lips and horrible green eyes, Louis pushes in. 

At first all he can feel is the heat, inexplicable and unbearable and constricting and it’s insanely fucking _amazing_ and he doesn’t want to do anything. He continues to stare down at Harry who already looks fucked out and the rush of love and adoration he feels for the boy beneath him is rather quite absurd but completely normal. 

Louis stays quiet as he thinks about lifetimes with Harry and how all he wants is ever is Harry and Harry and _Harry_. 

Harry nods breathlessly, not surprised at how hard he gets from seeing Louis sweaty and on top of him. Louis doesn’t see him nod so he says, “Go Tomlinson, movego _fuck_.” 

Louis does. He pulls out and pushes back in softly, just to start off and Harry wraps his long long legs around Louis’ waist. Louis’ head hangs near Harry’s collarbones that are shining with sweat and Louis decides this is what he wants. Harry raises his eyebrows at the pace but his eyes are rolling back into his head as Louis brings his hips forward slow and lazy, and every thrust makes Harry lose his breath. 

Harry’s mouth is open and Louis bends down and pushes their lips together. It’s messy and there’s too much teeth but it’s slick and languid and there’s Harry’s tongue and it enhances the short, breathy moans escaping one of their mouths to loud groans. It turns out to be Harry making the sounds because Louis’ grunting with the effort of going slow and that makes him try harder. 

Louis rotates his hips and Harry groans into his mouth and it vibrates Louis’ throat. 

Louis pulls his mouth away to Harry’s cheek and his jaw and Louis’ not really doing anything but slobbering over Harry but he doesn’t seem to mind if you judge his large grin and his own hips moving in figure eights to meet Louis and he says, “God, Louis, you should slow down.” 

Louis laughs at the sarcastic tone and rolls his eyes as he suddenly thrusts a lot faster. It almost hurts and Harry says, “Fuck,” as his back arches and Louis wants to smirk. 

He returns to his slower pace and Harry goes to sigh in content and just a bit of disappointment but he yawns instead. Louis’ eyebrows raise but Harry misses the action as he yawns again and before he can do anything Louis snaps his body forward, quick and hard, and his dick goes as far into Harry as it can and it hits his prostate and Harry positively _screams_. 

It’s strangled and wrecked and he chokes off halfway but he screams and if he wasn’t already Louis would be painfully hard. As it is, it makes him almost come and instead he moans low and dirty between the dips of Harry’s perfect collarbones and just above the gap of his birds. 

Harry’s response is for his breath to quicken and to stammer out, “I—not—can't— _Louis_.”

Louis understands, he does, because he isn't far behind. “You’re such, a princess, Haz,” he manages to ground out and that seems to be the trigger. 

Harry cries out, coming between their stomachs hard and hot and Louis’ belly becomes heavy and then he’s coming too. He’s on fire with everything and the release is so breathtakingly wonderful he wishes he could see Harry but his eyes are screwed shut tightly and Harry’s most probably are too. 

Louis falls down onto Harry and slips out easily, sliding halfway off his body due to a mix of sweat and come and it stains the bed sheets but neither really minds. Harry and Louis breathe deeply. 

“Love you, Louis,” Harry mumbles. 

“Love you too, Harry,” Louis says softly.

When Louis wakes up for the second time that morning he feels clean and sated and warm under the covers, but he can't feel Harry and that makes him a little colder. 

He huffs quietly and hears the familiar tone of Marimba playing from Harry’s bedside table. Louis blinks his eyes open and rubs away the sleep. Harry isn't actually there, and the tinkling and crackling sounds coming from the kitchen make it apparent he’s cooking breakfast for them, most probably because Louis did yesterday.

Louis stays in bed for a little longer, eyes closed and thinking about things that are sort of silly but not at all, such as whether or not Zayn’s had his morning cigarette yet or if Liam’s newest tattoo still hurts or if Niall had a bit too much to drink at his cousin’s birthday party. He also reaches over and turns Harry’s alarm off because Marimba gets under his skin and makes him want to rip off his ears.

When Louis moves he ignores the dirty bed sheets and wraps a blanket around his shoulders and shuffles into the kitchen. Louis plops himself into a seat at the table and closes his eyes again, propping up his head on his hands and groaning because it’s cold out of bed and because the clock on the wall says it’s only seven. 

He hears Harry laugh and Louis feels a wet pair of warm lips on his forehead, lips that then move down to the space between his furrowed eyebrows, to the tip of his nose, over his philtrum, grazing the pink bow of his lips and then finally ( _finally_ ) his lips are directly over Louis’ and they’re so plump and pink and Louis suddenly doesn’t care about breakfast, or the early morning or anything but Harry.

Harry begins to pull away and Louis groans and threads his hands in Harry’s hair to keep him there. 

Harry stops and giggles into Louis’ mouth, waits for Louis to take his hands away before tugging away quickly and leaping back over to his pan. “Louis, we have to eat. We’ve got a show and an interview today. C’mon, don’t pout.” 

Louis pouts anyway. “But Harold,” he whines, stretching out the end of the word. 

Harry blinks and sighs, turning off the fry pan and grabbing out two plates to put the bacon and scrambled eggs onto. “Don’t be a shit. We’re eating.” 

They eat and Louis smiles because he loves bacon and Harry.

***

The day is fine, the concert is better, but Louis finds that he’s greedy and doesn’t just want as long as he can have with Harry. He wants more, a lifetime and forever and an eternity and a trip to the sun and back all in a large package deal he can get for a price of just a little bit of his heart.


End file.
